


Give You Everything

by livebynight



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Blood, Emotional Abuse, F/M, Mental Abuse, Mentions of Abusive Relationship, Modern AU, Murder, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stalking, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-08 06:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11641179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livebynight/pseuds/livebynight
Summary: Ivar is your ex-boyfriend, and he will do anything to get you back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Ahem* So this got real dark real fast. Please take heed of all aforementioned warnings. There is both graphic violence and non-consensual elements to this piece, and it is not my intention to trigger anybody.
> 
> If you're able to continue, I hope you enjoy!! Xx.

He followed you for almost a year and you still hadn’t even noticed – hadn’t seen the pattern that every guy you dated ghosted you after three, maybe four dates. It didn’t necessarily matter, just had to be before enough time had passed for you to start asking questions if they disappeared. Became suspicious if you went too long without a call or text. Maybe got to know their friends, so that you could ask _them_ where the missing man went.

It was too easy at first.

Whatever Ivar had done to deserve this torment – for you to shove him out of your life when he gave you _everything_ – was apparently enough for you to change your taste in men altogether. Where Ivar was tall and towering, you dated shorter. Where he was trim and muscular, they were out of shape, sometimes chubby, more times accustomed to hanging out in a basement playing video games rather than working out at the gym or participating in sport. Vastly different hairstyles, too. No man you went on to date had long, thick locks like Ivar’s. All had cropped short hair, sometimes even fully shaved heads. _That_ he found entertaining. He knew how much you loved his hair, vividly remembered each time you ran your fingers through it, tugged and pulled as he ravaged your body as if it were the only thing holding you to this earth.

Most of him hoped you suffered without every bit of him. The hair, his strong body, the way he made you feel so small against him. Hoped that every time you took one of those pieces of shit to bed – and he _always_ knew when you did – that you could barely enjoy it because you were busy thinking of _him_ , and what _he_ could do to you.

After he’d watch the brainless twats leave your apartment building, he’d picture you inside. Writhing into your sheets as you finished yourself off. It was Ivar’s hands you pictured, Ivar’s mouth, Ivar’s cock. Not anyone else’s.

If only you knew that your careful evading of someone remotely similar to him simply made for an easier hunt.

He had never meant to get so hands-on. What he really wanted was to watch these idiots keep fucking up, perhaps become a catalyst for said fuck ups. Bide his time until you realized the error of your ways and came crawling back. And, _oh_ … The filthy things he would do to you when you did.

The first time it happened, Ivar was keeping an eye on – what was his name? James? Jonas? It made no difference.

You met him at a bar after your shift at work, wearing a dress that made Ivar’s mouth run dry. He’d seen it on you before, but the circumstances of no longer being able to claim you as his, grope you in front of the whole bar, made it all the harder for him to breathe. His cock twitched in his pants from the mere sight of you.

But then his blood boiled, watching the way you flirted with each other. The way your hand grazed his scrawny little arm. Ivar had to refrain from breaking a beer bottle in his fist. He was shaking with rage by the time you excused yourself to the bathroom.

He watched your date from the other side of the room, dressed in all black and a baseball cap over his head. Blending completely in shadow. This John fucker fiddled around in his pocket, checking over his shoulder as if making sure no one was looking.

 _Ivar_ was looking. Glaring as the prick slipped something into your drink.

This worthless human had the nerve to touch you in front of him, thought he deserved your body so much that he’d do something as vile as drug you to get it. Little did he know, your body already belonged to someone, no matter how much you tried to pretend it didn’t.

Ivar strode across the room, already pulling the pocketknife from his jeans. His heart raced as he worried if you’d come out of the bathroom in time to see him, but it didn’t keep him from deliberately knocking your glass off the table. James-whatever looked up, facial expression quickly turning from surprised to angry, upper lip curling in preparation of telling Ivar off.

His face fell flat as he felt something sharp press into his ribcage. He looked down to see Ivar’s hand concealed beneath his blazer.

“A-all right, man, chill,” he pleaded.

Ivar didn’t want him to plead. He wanted him outside before you came back. So he pressed harder, took a step closer. Ivar was at least five inches taller than him. Even if it weren’t for the blade, the guy still would’ve been scared of him.

They moved outside, Ivar turned him down the alley until they were both concealed, then slammed his head into the brick wall. A trash bin was knocked aside in his fall, and he immediately tried crawling away, shouting excuses over his shoulder.

“I wasn’t gonna do anything! I just – I was just fucking around!”

Ivar looked behind them with a growl, made sure there was enough of a crowd that the scuffle would go by unnoticed. He pocketed his knife and slowly made his way toward the scum until his feet were planted on either side of him. He easily turned him over and slammed his fist into his face.

“I swear I wasn’t gonna -” _Punch_.

“Please!” _Punch_.

Fucker tried fighting back, but you’d picked too much of a weakling that he couldn’t even get in one swing before Ivar punched him to the ground again.

He stood to his full height taking a deep breath. He could actually feel the seething hatred coursing through his body, could feel the adrenaline seep into his shaking hands. He spread out his fingers, watching how they trembled.

The guy pushed back on his hands trying to put distance between them. “W-what? S-she your girlfriend or something? I’m sorry!”

Ivar reached for his knife again.

The blade shone in what little light there was in the alley. The guy tried crawling away some more, face covered in blood, but Ivar took no time in reaching him, set his boot on his abdomen to keep him in place. He reached down and grabbed him by his scalp.

“I’m sorry, man!” he flailed. “I swear she’s all yours -!”

The knife in his jugular silenced him. No sound escaped until a cascade of blood flowed from his throat as Ivar retreated.

His chest was heaving from the thrill; his anger finally subsiding. One less pig to try and put his hands on you. He could leave you inside knowing you would be safe.

 _Yes_ , he thought, wiping the knife on his pant leg. _She’s mine_.

 

 

Killing for the first time didn’t feel as he thought it should. He expected to be up all night in a sweat, worried about being caught or feeling the least bit guilty.

He’d slept like a baby that night instead. He lay on his bed in the pitch-black room, steadily growing hard at the thought of you going home alone. Having no other solace to cure your undeniable want of him. Now you’d be free to moan his name as you touched yourself, maybe even cry at the hole he left inside you with nothing left to fill it.

Ivar stroked himself at the thought. Cursing as he clenched around his shaft, imagining your misery without him. Your hopelessness. No light without him being the source. His cum littered his stomach when he finished and he drifted into a dreamless sleep shortly after.

The next one went down even easier a month later. Another date with another oafish excuse of a man. Ivar couldn’t believe that you would stoop so low like this. He could give you anything you ever wanted, he could cherish and love you, from your body to your soul.

 

He stood outside the restaurant you ate in. A ‘Small Plates’ place that was cramped and filled with people. So busy and loud, sidewalk milling with people, that he could lean against a light post and watch while he smoked a cigarette.

This one was worse than the last, Ivar decided. This one couldn’t hold eye contact – was too busy ogling other women and drinking too much. He looked grimy. The date had to have been set up by another friend or something. There was no other explanation for the lack of attraction.

Ivar couldn’t pick which he loathed more, a man daring to be kind to you, or a man who disrespected you so freely. If you were going to waste your time, you should’ve at least been respected. And yet no one should be respecting you but _him_.

He followed closely as your date walked you home. He didn’t bother trying to learn his name this time. He found it made him too pissed off.

Hovering at the corner, he observed from a decent distance as you declined him inviting himself inside. _Good_ , Ivar thought. _You’re not totally lost_.

But he became pushy with you, got handsy and tried rubbing through your shirt in means of coercion. Ivar struggled to stay still, but would first wait and see if he made it inside or not.

It didn’t take long; you shoved him away and slammed the door with a shout.

Ivar lingered behind appropriately as he followed him. The shithead was completely unaware for half a mile, then began looking over his shoulder at the looming, tall and dark figure behind him. After two blocks more, he dipped quickly around a corner, trying to shake off the foreboding figure.

As he rounded the corner after him, the guy jumped out in attack, but Ivar was too quick. He dodged the fist that swung at him – grabbed the wrist of the second. Fucks sake - _when_ would you pick someone _stronger_? Someone just the slightest bit like him? He got his arm twisted behind his back as easily as a doll’s.

There was nowhere to hide, save behind an SUV. Ivar shuffled him toward it, pressed his back against the car and wrapped his forearm around the man’s throat. He squeezed and squeezed, gritting his teeth together to keep from shouting out in frustration. Eventually… the flailing stopped. The smaller body went completely limp, not a breath nor heartbeat left inside.

Ivar stared down at the corpse, regaining his breath. Still no guilt, still no worry. Nothing but the comfort of knowing you wouldn’t have to endure this pig anymore. He stepped over the body to make sure it was safe to walk off, but then paused, turning back.

He bit his lip and squatted to search the guy’s pockets. Upon finding his cellphone, he unlocked the screen, pleased to see there wasn’t even a password. Not even _that_ would hinder his duty to protect you. To keep you safe, and _his_. It simply felt like fate.

Your number was the most recently used contact. You’d stopped answering Ivar’s calls a while ago; would ignore them and put them straight to voicemail. He stopped leaving voicemail's soon after that.

This time when he dialed, you answered on the second ring.

“Call to apologize?” You asked. “Literally our second date and you want to pull that shit?”

Ivar had to bite his lip to keep from groaning. The mere sound of your voice… He smiled and his eyes drifted closed while he reveled in it. The nerves of his kill mellowed out so he could let out one long, relaxed exhale.

“Are you there?”

It was painful not to answer but it would destroy everything if he spoke. He had to win you back. All of this would be for naught if he didn’t have you in the end.

 

 

It went like this for a few months longer and _still_ you hadn’t noticed. Still hadn’t found someone worth getting to know well enough that you would question their absence later. Two more men gotten rid of. Ivar stabbed one to death once he overheard him on the phone talking to a peer about how he couldn’t wait to get you in the sack.

The other was when things almost went downhill. Ivar was disappointed in you now; your standards appeared to only drop further and further the more he killed. That was not his intention. You were supposed to come back to him, not settle for any worthless asshole that looked in your direction. You were better than that; you were beautiful and perfect, and you should’ve learned by now that he was the only one meant for you. Why couldn’t you just see that?

It was your first date with some guy named Mikael. There was nothing remarkable about it; you got drunk with him at another bar. One you used to frequent with Ivar. That alone felt like personal betrayal. He was seething not fifteen minutes into the ordeal.

But the worst part was that you eagerly took him home with you. Perhaps you were thirsting too strongly, now that Ivar was effectively keeping any man from bedding you. It was so disgusting to watch, he had to restrain himself from interrupting as you walked home with this total stranger, stopping at several intervals to kiss each other.

Ivar thumbed the knife in his pocket. Once again, he was in the position that if he did something _too_ in the moment, everything would be ruined. He had to let you fuck this worthless guy. He _had_ to endure it.

An hour passed and the guy stumbled out of your building. Ivar snorted. An hour. What a fucking joke. He tossed his cigarette aside and followed the drunkard halfway across the city. He didn’t want to jump him too soon; there could be no pattern in bodies that showed up around your neighborhood.

The length of the walk did nothing to settle his mood. The longer it took, the more antsy he became until his hands were shaking in the pockets of his jacket. Images flashed through his mind of this man undressing you, of kissing your body, of making you moan and whine, arching your back in a way that only _he_ should’ve admired. _How could you do this to him?_ He gave you _all_ of him – certainly more than one pathetic fucking hour. How could you stoop so fucking low? Were you so goddamn miserable without him that you had to act like a fucking _whore_?

He stopped to kick a trash bin over, but it did nothing to quell the rage that was taking over his limbs. It was hard for him to even see straight. He couldn’t stand it any longer.

On the next desolate block, Ivar picked up his pace to a slow jog. The pig you spread your legs for was too drunk to hear him coming, didn’t even skip a step as he came from behind and coldcocked him over the back of the head.

The man was unconscious before he even hit the ground, and there was nothing to stop Ivar now. He grabbed him by his shirt collar, drove his fist into his skull over and over until he was certain his fist was broken. And after that, he kicked and stomped with his boot until he heard an audible crack – _finally_ he could stop.

He stumbled back, shouting as he caught his breath. Sweaty palms ran over his chest and he leaned over, perching on his knees, glaring at the dead body. Only when someone shouted in the distance did Ivar take off and run full speed, not stopping until he could taste blood in his lungs.

 

 

Ivar obsessed over that night for a couple of weeks. He’d lost total control and it could’ve ended him. He didn’t know if that shout he heard was directed at him or not, didn’t stick around to investigate. But when he heard about the body in the news a few days after, there were no clues leading to a suspect.

The worst part was that he wished he could forget about you. How easily you had managed to snag his heart and rip it straight from his chest. And now he was killing for you. Was ridding your life of scum and you were so completely unaware to even appreciate it. He was so angry with you, hated you, but he was so in love with you that it felt like physical pain. The killing was only making it worse. What used to be peaceful sleep was now tossing and turning. He could no longer jerk off to the thought of you crying without him, for he was doing the same without you. His body ached, and he knew he could not rest until he had you in his grasp again.

 

 

You saw him at the grocery store one day. Your heart stopped beating, and you froze, dropping your shopping crate on the floor. He turned at the sound and you kept your head down, hoping he wouldn’t see you, or would ignore you if he did.

In a panic, you haphazardly shoved all of your items back in the basket, and once you rose, you almost dropped it again. He stood right in front of you.

“I-Ivar,” you stuttered, feeling like your heart would explode or your stomach would empty of its contents.

He looked to be in such pure bliss that when he opened his mouth, only a squeak came out. Lips sealed again as his cheeks turned crimson. An old reflex kicked in and you ogled him up and down, taking in his jeans, his tight black T-shirt, the gorgeous head of hair that was tied up into a bun. You choked down a sob and immediately turned to make a beeline out of the store, groceries be damned – but his hand shot out and grabbed you by the arm.

“Ivar,” you protested at once, intending to shout but all that came out was a whisper.

“Wait, just wait,” he said gently, a tone you weren’t at all used to. It was enough to make you pause, look up at him with doe eyes as if not even believing he was capable of seeming so soft.

“I just want to look at you.”

You allowed it just for a moment, and only because he looked so in need of it. _Certainly_ not because you missed him. His grasp loosened on your arm but he didn’t let go, thumb absentmindedly brushing over your skin.

“I have to go,” you said eventually, taking a step back. He pouted, but you tore your arm away from him before his grip could tighten again. “You should forget me, Ivar.”

“N-no, I don’t want to,” he urged, rushing to close that distance. People were looking now. You were in the way of others and it was hard not to notice the tall, handsome man towering over a girl as short as you. “I need – I don’t know -” he kept stuttering, making this harder for you. “I can fix it.”

You shook your head, having to take one more step away. “You scared me, Ivar.”

He made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “I would never hurt you, you know that.”

“I wasn’t so sure…” You started to turn from him, even when it looked like he might cry then and there. “Just… forget me.”

You finally walked away from him, dropping your basket at one of the tills before rushing out of the store.

Ivar stood in his spot for a moment longer. He couldn’t fathom how such elation could be torn from him in a matter of seconds. But it only further reassured him of his goal. You were the only thing in the world worth living for – he would _not_ forget you. Not ever.

 

 

But things made a turn for the better for him. Not long after the run-in and he found that you were dating someone new. Dating someone who looked just like him – well enough that he could’ve easily passed as a doppelganger. This man was just as tall, just as lean and well built, muscles protruding through his clothes each time he moved. His hair was almost as long and eyes nearly as blue. Even his fucking cheekbones were sharp enough to cut. Ivar hadn’t felt so happy in months.

It meant you missed him, meant you craved him. Meant you still wanted him so much that you would date someone just to pretend it _was_ him. Before, the shit-storm of men displayed your need to be rid of him, but this… This meant he had a chance.

Ivar never allowed you to date someone for so long. Weeks passed, and still, he let you grow closer. He didn’t fall into a fit of rage when he watched you kiss because he had the solace of certainty that it was him you imagined. He didn’t have to fantasize about it anymore. The first time you brought the man home, Ivar stood outside, eyes practically glued to his watch in anticipation. Longer than a measly hour, but still not as long as what he could give you. He could only imagine the insatiable itch you had now. The tease of fucking someone just like him but _not quite_ all the same. The only urge he had to control was storming through your door to finish you off.

But he would wait for the opportune moment. It would be worth it. There was no doubt in his mind that you would be his once and for all.

 

 

One day, Ivar got lieu of your plans to spend the night out barhopping on the same strip you used to with him. He spent the whole day preparing. He followed your new boy-toy around. Inspecting what kind of clothes he wore, his mannerisms. _Oh_ , how tempting it was to kill him. Get rid of him completely, but it was still too early.

He bought the same outfit as him. Dressed in the same jeans and grey hoodie, wore his hair down just like your man did. The only things he didn’t replicate were his shoes and his cologne. He almost bought the same cologne, but after this night, he wanted the depths of your mind to recognize who’d done this to you, even if you consciously couldn’t.

Waiting was the hardest part. He leered in the background for a couple of hours, keeping a watchful eye, but refrained from making his move until you wandered to the third bar. By that time, you weren’t too drunk, but had a buzz strong enough to keep a smile on your face. Redden your cheeks. Loosen the sway of your hips as you walked in your heels. It was pure luck for Ivar that you had worn a dress.

You stepped out through the back door for a cigarette; a door he knew led to a dim alleyway that wasn’t open to the public. Your date stayed inside and ordered you both fresh drinks, attention glued to the television.

He gave three minutes to see if that attention wavered, and when it didn’t – when he instead struck conversation with other patrons - Ivar strode to the back of the bar and shoved the metal door open.

You looked over as it opened, leaning back against the wall. “I thought you were watching the game?”

Ivar was already hard in his pants. His face was completely in shadow, hood upturned to block the light rain, and light from the door created a silhouette over his broad shoulders.

“All good?” You asked, tapping on your cigarette.

He grunted and let the door swing shut, took five long strides to get to you before pushing you against the brick wall, smothering your back into its rough surface. You gasped at the force of him, almost feeling hesitant until you felt his lips on your neck. His mouth was hot and slick over your flesh giving you chills. You stood there unresponsive until he smacked the cigarette out of your hand and dug his hips into yours, grinding you against the wall.

“Christ, what’s gotten into you?” You asked breathlessly. His hand moved to grasp your throat and he centered your head, lifting his own from your neck to kiss your lips. You’d kissed him not long ago yet somehow, his lips felt softer now, plumper as they melded with your own. His mouth was prying, strong jaw working into yours until he could glide his tongue into your mouth.

There was something odd about it that you couldn’t place; he was kissing you like he’d _been_ kissing you for ages. Knew every crevice of your mouth, knew how you liked the feel of teeth nipping on your bottom lip. It’d only been a few seconds but you felt yourself melting, slumping between him and the wall. Without any more reluctance, you wound your arms around his muscular shoulders, letting out a wanton groan as you eagerly met his hips with your own.

Ivar’s mind was reeling. He was trying desperately to contain himself. For so long, he never knew if he would kiss you again, feel you against him. Hear the sounds that you used to save solely for him. He was so scared of it never happening that he was terrified in this moment – knew that he could never come back from this.

He closed what little room there was left between you. Scooted his legs between yours, grateful that you were wearing heels high enough so his erection could grind into your pelvis. You moaned so loudly at the friction, your mouths fell apart. The back of your head hit brick and he only took the opportunity to attack your throat. Sucked and nipped every sensitive spot he knew were your weaknesses.

His hands were becoming greedy, squeezing and pulling you tight, pinching you through the fabric of your dress. You felt slightly damp from standing out in the rain and it only turned him on more, how his palms and fingers could easily slick over you, draw the sweetest gasps out from your throat.

There was something so familiar about it, but lately you’d spent so much time in a depressed haze, you blamed it on the alcohol and all your daydreaming. You couldn’t even be bothered by the location – the possibility of someone else walking through that door. All you knew was that your body hadn’t felt so on fire since – since –

You squealed when his hand slid between your legs. He ran his fingers over your panties until your hips rolled against your bidding. You’d been dating, what – a month and a half, maybe? Not exactly the amount of time that called for getting fucked in an alley… But when his hand snaked beneath your panties, thick fingers stroked between your lips and you cried out, suddenly not caring how long you’d been with this guy.

He hushed you, clamping his palm over your mouth before penetrating you with his fingers. Your eyes searched for his face as your sounds were muffled under his hand. He was still so basked in shadow that all you could see was a glint of his blue eyes, and they were such a blue that you couldn’t help but whine and think of Ivar. Fuck… You didn’t want to think of Ivar. You kept convincing yourself that the looks were just a coincidence but - fingers plunged into you again and your eyes rolled back, mind becoming void of whatever you’d been thinking of.

Ivar tried to keep his voice down. He knew the slightest sound of it could give him away, but Gods, your wet cunt was soaking his fingers, clenching around them each time he withdrew. He couldn’t wait to get his cock inside you, to feel you again. He wanted to make you scream and shout, to make you come so hard that when he dropped you to the ground, your legs wouldn’t be able to hold you up. Just the mere feel of your small hands gripping around his shoulders made him blind with lust.

 But he had to remind himself he didn’t have all night. You might’ve thought otherwise, but he had to fuck you fast before your date became suspicious and decided to wander out back.

He quickly released your mouth and tore down your dress, still fucking you with his fingers. You struggled to stay quiet; a shrill squeal echoed against your tightly closed lips as he lowered his head and sucked your breast into his mouth. He moved impossibly closer to the wall until your toes just barely dangled above the pavement. His teeth clamped around your nipple, tongue flicking at the hard bead while he drew his fingers from your pussy only to rub vigorously into your clit. It was such a shock that your hips shot from the wall and he had to slam you back into it to keep you in place.

Your entire body was shaking. He gripped your throat again, directing your face toward the light above the door so he could watch your face. His fucking heart swelled just watching you struggle through your orgasm; he sped up his hand, increasing the pressure of his fingers, circling around your swollen clit until he had to squeeze around your throat to keep you from screaming.

He effortlessly hoisted you from the ground in a rush and secured your legs around him. While he got his belt and jeans undone, you tried pulling at his hood, wanted to run your fingers through his hair, but he pressed his forehead against your chest to keep you from doing so.

Your cunt wasn’t nearly finished twitching when he filled you with his cock. The sudden intrusion had you gasping for air, completely unable to make a noise. He pulled out and rammed back in with enough strength to smack your head on the wall.

There was no controlling himself now. One hand fisted itself in your hair while the other wrapped around your bicep. With a snap of his hips, he filled you even deeper, steadily set a rapid pace that was impossible for you to match. The brick wall scratched your back. It was impossible to fill your lungs with air as he thrust into you harder and harder.

He had to muffle his noises into your cleavage, grunting every time he sunk inside you. It was something similar to shock that he felt inside, and yet there was still a part of him that raged, wanting you to know it was him. Wanting you to see his face – wanting to see your reaction as you realized just whose cock was fucking your cunt. The thought made him slam into you even harder. It was starting to hurt you but there was something so animalistic about it – something that triggered nostalgia in your limbs. You clenched around him and finally he moaned. The sound of it raised bumps on your skin and turned your sweat cold but you had no idea why.

Finally, his stance faltered. His hands were harsh vices on your body as he spilled his cum inside you, coming so fiercely that he felt lightheaded after.

Fuck. He hadn’t thought about this part. Hadn’t thought about what it would feel like having to force himself to leave you after. He wanted to nuzzle you, kiss you some more, and take you home with him to smother in his bed and never let you leave again.

 But still, it would ruin everything.

He brought himself to gently lower you to the ground, pleased to see your knees were in fact too weak to stand at first. You held onto his shoulders as he fixed his pants, blinking heavily, still whimpering with each intake of breath.

You felt him start to move away and grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Wait,” you said breathlessly. Ivar froze. Was he caught? Did you know? “Probably makes sense you go in first…” you reasoned, and he sighed in relief. “But… Kiss me before you do?”

Ivar didn’t want to. He needed to, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want you to go back inside, cuddle up to the asshole who looked too much like him.

But you looked so innocent just standing there, wanting him all the same. Your lips pouted, dress in entire disarray, hair a fuzzy mess between the sweat and the drizzling rain. He even liked to imagine his cum was still leaking out of you, seeping languidly through the lips of your cunt.

Yes, he had to kiss you.

He took you in his arms, ran his hands over your head to push your hair back. Already your eyes were closed, and he looked at you with wide eyes before pressing his lips onto yours. You were whimpering again, grasping onto the bottom of his sweatshirt. You inhaled deeply as your mouths opened simultaneously and tongues slid smoothly along each other’s. This kiss was much sweeter and softer, better than any you’d shared with him –

Ivar pulled away abruptly, clearing his throat. You let go of his shirt as you struggled to identify what you were feeling - what you were... _smelling_ , and he could see it in your eyes. See the contemplative look as your brows furrowed and your gaze fell to the ground.

You didn’t protest this time as he made his escape.

He walked through the back door again, even more relieved to find your date hadn’t budged except to get another drink. Yours was still sitting next to his, untouched.

 

 

It took all of a day and a half before he decided he needed to kill him, too. It was different before; it’d been long enough since he felt you that he felt stupid for thinking that was agony then. _Now_ he had to endure real pain. He’d had you, you were his, you belonged to him and the very thought of you ending up in the arms of some other man was the strongest pain he’d ever felt in his life. He punched a hole through a wall just from wondering if you’d fucked the guy since.

Ivar couldn’t have that. He didn’t care if you asked questions about it later. It had to be done.

So he stole a car one evening. Easy enough when so many people in the city left their cars unlocked. He drove out to where he knew he’d be that night, far away from you. He found him alone at the docks – the shittier docks in town, not the ones that had security because rich people stowed their boats there, but the ones where you could find just about any drug you wanted at any time of day.

There were nothing but junkies there at this hour. Ivar parked the car, adjusted his baseball cap and sought out his prey – currently getting drunk and high with two other losers. Ivar stayed back, feeling a little comfortable back in the same routine. But if all of his planning amounted to anything, this would be the last time he had to kill anybody.

After some time, he got up and went to take a piss behind a building. An even darker, remote area. Ivar followed quietly. He was completely unsuspecting, dick out as he whistled to himself. Didn’t bat an eye as Ivar rushed him from behind, covered his mouth with his hand and stabbed him in between his ribs. The guy was so shocked, he hardly reacted, and Ivar was grateful for it. For once, it appeared he could’ve gotten a good fight out of this one if he struggled.

Ivar stabbed and stabbed until his fist was completely soaked in blood. He dropped the body without a care in the world, stole his wallet to make it look like a mugging, and stalked off – first to rinse his hands, then to ditch the wallet, and lastly to steal another car.

 

 

He’d just gotten back from the gym – still had his headphones in his ears when there was knocking on his front door. It took a moment to hear, music blasting, but once he did, he couldn’t help but feel nervous. Ivar was a loner, he rarely had guests at his apartment and not many people knew where he lived.

He pulled the earbuds out and wiped the sweat from his eyes, reluctantly moseying over to the door. When he looked through the peephole, his heart fluttered so suddenly he had to cough the sensation away.

The deadbolt came undone and he threw the door open, stunned to find you standing there.

“I should have called – I know I should have called, but I was down the road and had a lapse of judgement and -”

“Slow down,” Ivar said, his own mind lapsing, still in disbelief at the sight before him. Then he noticed the tears in your eyes, you were shaking. His excitement was instantly muffled with anger. “What is it?” he growled.

You looked up at him, feeling so stupid now. It was your decision to leave him after all. It was you who turned your back. But seeing him now, you knew you must’ve been crazy for ever doing so. Ivar was the most beautiful thing in the world. Especially now, covered in sweat with his face flushed. A T-shirt that revealed every muscle of his torso. What the fuck was wrong with you?

“I made a mistake…” you whispered, hugging yourself. “I should never have… I’m sorry, I -”

Ivar tried not to smile. Each of his chess pieces fell right in place and now look at you, predictably crawling back to his door. If only you knew the things he’d done to get you here. The smile was even harder to resist when he pictured the horror on your face. He was so fucking smug, it was tempting to slam the door on you – let _you_ feel what you’d done to him. Drive _you_ insane that you have to take lives to satiate yourself, hunt women to keep them from ever laying their paws on him.

But then a fat tear rolled down your cheek and your lip trembled.

“Please, Ivar… Will you…” You looked up at him again, gaze focusing on his mouth before forcing them onto his eyes – bright like lightning. “Will you have me? Will you take me ba-”

You hadn’t even finished the question and you were being dragged into the apartment. The door slammed shut behind you and Ivar had you lifted in his arms before you could say another word.

He had dreamed of this moment for months and now it was finally happening.

You were both half undressed by the time he got you on his bed, and he didn't stop there, either. He flung your shoes across the room, ripped your pants from your legs and tore your panties from your hips. His mouth was on you even faster, moving from your neck to your breasts, from your stomach to the already soaked entrance between your legs.

When he made it to your mouth again, you pulled his hair from its bun and ran your fingers through it. Ivar sobbed against your lips, overwhelmed as your nails raked over his scalp. Finally, you were his. Finally, you had fucking smartened up to realize that everything you wanted bore him as its source.

His cock was inside you before he even took his pants off, and instantly he was pounding away until you both moaned and screamed, clinging desperately to each other’s bodies. He knew that he wanted to punish you when he originally planned this. But feeling you claw into him, kiss him anywhere you could reach, _fucking hell_ , the joy clenched around his heart with a steel grip.

Besides, there would be plenty of time for that later. He’d let you enjoy this. Let you revel in his body until you were covered in one another’s fluids. Let you pass out next to him. But later, you’d be his fucking slave. You were to cry and plead for him until he was through with you – if he chose to be through with you anytime soon. He knew he’d want to take his time. And now he had it. You were his again and he was never going to let you go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please take note of the tags/warnings above. This is not for the light of heart. This is dark as hell. This is twisted. I don't want anyone to be triggered unnecessarily. 
> 
> If you're able to continue - I hope you enjoy!

The rest of the night had you going round after round on each other. Skipping dinner entirely because that would mean getting out of bed. Getting up, and dressed, and wasting yet another moment that could be spent touching each other instead.

How could you have gone so long without him? What the fuck was wrong with you?

You straddled his lap, running your mouth over Ivar’s flushed and sweaty chest at your leisure. Up until him, your track record with men had never gone well. Four years with Ivar, and not one person had treated you better. He had given you everything, and you were foolish to give it up. His short temper be damned.

You’d missed his taste. Missed how soft his skin was over the toned muscles of his body. There were times he could look downright threatening, but as he lay beneath you in bed, you were certain there had never been a sight more sweet. How stupid you had been, for trying to give this up.

“Did you think of me often?” Ivar asked, weaving his fingers through your hair.

The change of tone in his voice was easily missed; you’d been too preoccupied in kissing his body. Besides, the answer came so easily that perhaps the question wouldn’t have bothered you even if you were truly paying attention.

“Every day,” you said earnestly, sucking on his pale skin. “You’re all I think about every day.” You groaned, claiming each of his nipples now. They’re pink and hard, a handsome contrast to his complexion.

Ivar huffed, already feeling his anger flare inside of him. Worse even, having to cope with his elation slipping away so rapidly. It’d only been a few hours since he had you back, and already a dark haze filled his mind. If you truly missed him – if he really plagued your thoughts as much as you filled his – why the fuck had you not returned his calls? Why had you not come back to him sooner? How could you have let this go on for so long, put him through so much anguish, if you really loved him the same?

“You are _lying_ ,” he said bitterly through his teeth. His free hand joined in tangling in your hair, tightening his grip so he could raise your head from his chest. “How many was it, huh?”

Your mouth bobbed open uselessly. “What do you -?”

“How many men did you _fuck_ after leaving me?” Ivar specified, voice getting louder; each word gritted through his teeth. Of course, he already knew the truth. But he wanted to see if you would confess to your whoreish ways – or perhaps feed him more lies. Try to wiggle your way out of taking responsibility.

Shame instantly flooded through you, so quickly you wanted to cry. There was nothing you ever gained from it. From the men you tried to forget Ivar with. All it did was make you feel dirty and yearn for him even more. You had never felt so lonely.

“I don’t want to talk about that, Ivar, I just want -”

“You want _what_?” Ivar demanded, squeezing around your head even tighter. “Huh? You want me to forget it?” His demeaner alone made you nervous. You struggled in his hold, but each time you tried easing from his grip, he pulled you back to him even harder, keeping your face within inches of his. “Take you back so easily after you have made a fool of me? Offered yourself to pigs like slop?”

“Ivar!”

He hissed through his teeth, craning his neck so he could bore his glare into your thick skull. You always had to make things more difficult. “I ought to hit you for what you have done to me… Would you like that?”

Your eyes closed, waiting for it. Ivar had never hit you before – came close enough on more than one occasion – but he was right. It was what you deserved. You abandoned him. You betrayed him. Even if it hurt, you would accept that if that was really what he wanted.

“Hit me,” you told him.

For a moment, Ivar paused, bewildered that you would accept the punishment. There was a throbbing in his heart where part of him simply wanted to hold you and cry, but it still did naught to ebb away his anger. The resentment he felt. You’ve turned him into a monster, and he would make you atone.

The backhand almost knocked you off the bed, but it made no difference. Ivar shoved you to the floor after, and you winced when your knees made sharp contact with the hard wood. With his fist still in your hair, he sits upright and drags you between his legs.

“You will show me how sorry you are until I am satisfied – do you understand?” There was nothing to quell his rage now. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. The same way it’s done when he’s killed the men who dare put their hands on you. This has been another line crossed; there was no coming back from it.

You shrieked as he tugged too sharply on your hair again, but you vigorously nodded your head. Setting your hands on his thighs, mouth obediently opening as Ivar wrapped his hand around his cock. Smacked on your chin with the half-hard length.

You barely got your mouth on it when he took hold of the back of your head and forced you to take him down entirely. You gagged straight away, choking more intensely as he grew fully erect between your lips. He retained all control as he held your head in place and fucked into your mouth, until all you could concentrate on was not vomiting. You were even more thankful then that your stomach was empty.

Ivar was ruthless. Thrusting into the back of your throat so your eyes quickly filled with tears. You clenched them shut, scraping your fingers against his thighs as he continued his assault, voice strangled in his throat as he reveled in the velvety softness of your mouth. He didn’t care that tears were starting to fall from beneath your lids; the sight of your smeared mascara running down your cheeks only turned him on even more.

He shuddered as you gagged around him once again, dousing him with your saliva. It’s enough to make him cum, but he’s not quite so finished yet.

Suddenly, he tore you away from his cock. He had to hold back his laughter, watching you sputter and gasp for air in the process, but he didn’t hold back the smile that grew on his face. You coughed and wheezed; tried blinking through tears just so you could meet his eye. And he half expected you to protest, to beg him to stop. To verbally tell him no and plead for mercy. A small part of him even wanted to stop. Wanted to be gentle with you, caress you for the rest of the night. But his rage was insatiable, and instead, you audibly gulped. Waited for more.

You were like a rag doll by his hands when he roughly dragged you back onto the bed. You let him manhandle you. He tugged and pulled until getting you on all fours, kept your ass in the air before shoving his fist against your spine, making you arch so your chest was flush against the bed.

He swiftly slammed his cock inside you – so hard that your teeth clattered. The scream from your throat was impossible to contain, you were positively filled by him.

Ivar gave you no solace. At once, he slammed into you over and over with every ounce of his strength, sounding like an animal as growls and grunts ripped their way through his chest. There was nothing remotely pleasurable in it for you; he’d already made you sore, and now he tore into you like a punching bag. Rammed himself in, repeatedly smacked his hand against both sides of your ass until it was a covered with crimson handprints. All you could do was whimper in pain, with his fist tying knots into your hair. There wasn’t a single moment where Ivar let up on you. Each of his thrusts sharp and hurtful, and purposefully so.

Ivar wanted you to ache for days. Wanted you to ache forever. He refused to let a day go by from here on out where you couldn’t feel the effects of his body. Didn’t care if you were left bruised and feeling broken. _Fuck_ , part of him even wants you to be afraid of him. To know what he is capable of. A deterrence to keep you from being so fucking irresponsible ever again… Just the thought of it made him groan, slam harder into your cunt until there’s no doubt the neighbors can hear.

He was in pain by the time he came, spilling his hot fluid into your swollen cunt. It was the fourth time for him that night, and the orgasm left him cross-eyed, almost dizzy once he collapsed on the bed beside you.

Your entire body vibrated with a dull shaking. But the tears had stopped – you were too in shock to cry. As he rolled onto his back, you reached out for him, aching to feel his arms around you. Just for a moment – even if he was still mad.

But once you touched him, he shouted in your face. “ _No_!” He yelled, grabbing you by the biceps. “You have not suffered _nearly_ enough.”

“Ivar, please -” you sobbed, just wanting him to hold you. _All you want_ is for Ivar to hold you… Instead, he sneered, lip curling in such disgust you thought he might hit you again. In an instant, he shoved you from the bed, and you landed on the cold, hard floor with a thud.

“Be thankful that is all you get. I should put you outside with the fucking dogs.”

You bit your lip to keep from protesting. Ivar was right. You were lucky just to be in his bedroom, even if it was cold down there… Alone on the floor. Your lungs filled tightly with air as you sucked in a deep breath, willing yourself to be good for Ivar. To just sleep. Eventually, he turned off the light. Basked you in darkness. It was easier that way.

 

 

Ivar woke to the feeling of panic. Sheer terror filled his body – covered in a cold sweat. The fear only heightened when he couldn’t find you in the bed. Had you left him again? Did you sneak out in the middle of the night? Was he abandoned once more – for _good_ this time?

Tears well in his eyes when he remembers what he’d done.

“No – _nonono_ ,” he scolded himself, pulling himself across the bed. Looking over the edge, he felt sick to his stomach. Your naked body is on the floor, curled into the fetal position. Limbs shaking and teeth chattering.

How could he have done this to you? _Why_? You should’ve snuck out while you could – he was worthless for doing something so horrific.

Not wasting a second, Ivar grabbed your arms, startling you from your sleep. Your eyes aren’t even close to adjusting to the darkness when he heaved you from the floor and slung you over the bed.

Ivar clutched at you desperately, whispering your name over and over as he tried getting you situated under the blanket. Finally, your voice croaks, and you sob, crying out for him.

“I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_ ,” he swore over and over. He buried you beneath him, encasing both of your bodies in the heavy blanket. “I’m _so_ _sorry_ – please forgive me.” The tremors of his body wracked through him with a violence that matched yours, and it wasn’t until he pressed his face into your neck that you could feel he, too, was crying. “I don’t – I don’t know how I could -” his voice broke off, terrified to finish the sentence.

“Ivar, I’m -”

“No, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t say anything.” Your eyes were adjusting as he started kissing your face. You watched him hover back and forth, cheek to cheek, each crevice under your jaw.

He felt horrible. How, how, _how_ could he have done something so awful? Why did you make him feel this way? You made him lose all sense of control, and now look at what he’d done.

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses. “I love you, baby, I love you.” He doesn’t stop either. The words left his mouth in conjunction with each desperate kiss. Your mouths blotted away the salty trails until meeting somewhere in the middle, letting your lips part simultaneously to slide your tongues against each other. He will assure you of his love, that he will never treat you in such a manner ever again. You are all that matters to him – all that’s worth living for. He will take care of you for the rest of his days.

Soon enough, he pressed between your thighs. You winced when his hips rolled into yours.

“I’m sore, Ivar,” you whined, shying away from him.

“I know, my love,” he murmured. But it didn’t keep his hips from moving. You squeezed your thighs around him to keep him still. “I will be gentle,” he promised. “I just – I need to feel you, I need to make love to you.” He groaned, melding his body against you. “Maybe my mouth will help.”

You didn’t stop him as he pushed his way down your body. But he stayed true to his words; light fingers coaxed your thighs apart and he dragged his tongue through your slit. You were so sensitive and swollen, trembled as he laved at you in preparation. And your body needed him as much as your soul did – Ivar deftly made you wet and gaping, even if it hurt to do so.

When he couldn’t wait any longer, he crawled his way back up your torso, blanketing you with his. His stamina was fucking baffling, but all the same, his cock was hard, already prodding into your entrance. His own eyelashes fluttered at the sensation. “ _God_ , just let me make love to you…”

He slowly slid himself inside you, kissing you quiet when you winced and whimpered in pain. He would take the pain away. He’d make this up to you, prove to you that you were all he longed for.

And once he’d languidly drawn out and lightly sunk back in more than once, it begins to feel good again. Your cunt involuntarily clenched around him as if yearning for more. Fingertips pressed into his waist, nails raked across his back as he fucked you. And when your hands reached his hair, Ivar let out the most erotic moan you’d ever heard – you can’t help but arch for him, meeting his hips with yours. He felt so good inside, all the fear seeped away so everything faded from the room. All that existed were your bodies, writhing harmoniously together in the dark. Breathy voices and choked gasps filled his bedroom, and you cum together like you have a thousand times before.

“I love you,” Ivar said again. He felt much more whole, having you squished beneath him. He never wanted to leave his bed.

And of course, he loves you. He’d forgiven you, hadn’t he? When you’d turned your back on him? Even when he tried to punish you – he couldn’t make it through the night. That just went to show how much he cared. Though your eyes were swollen, the fighting meant nothing now.

“Do you love me?” He asked shyly, tucking his face back into the crook of your neck.

“I love you, Ivar.” You pet his hair to soothe him. The hair you fell for as hard as you fell for him. “I love you more than anything.”

 

 

Ivar took you out for a date two nights later. It was to one of the Bar & Restaurants he used to take you to before the breakup.

Together, you went to your own apartment to pack up some clothes so you would have a supply at Ivar’s. Then, you wound up wearing one of his favorite dresses. A dark red number, and clingy. Perhaps a little too dressy for where you were headed, but Ivar thought you looked breathtaking. He remarked on such, telling you how beautiful you looked every few minutes or so as he watched you get ready for the evening.

Neither of you mentioned the bruise on your cheek, and neither of you wanted to. You and Ivar moved past it, had made amends. In fact, you were certain in just the few days currently shared with each other, you’d never been happier with him.

And for Ivar… His punishment was taken well, but he had let his darkest side reveal itself to you when he forced you on the floor that night. And he knew it could never happen again. Not if you were to spend the rest of your life with him. Ivar would never survive another moment without you; he’d destroy the world if you left him again. He would do everything in his power to keep you by his side.

The anger had stopped flooding him… For now.

 

He’d left you alone at the table for no more than five minutes and you were approached by some fucking loser. Ivar should have known it was too soon for you to venture out. That the wounds were still fresh, that he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he felt threatened.

His hands shook at the bar while he waited for drinks. And it was both a blessing and a curse that you were preoccupied enough for him to order two shots of tequila. He slammed them down back to back, hoping it would do something to calm his nerves.

It was just a coworker from your job – Matthew. He’d known you had taken a few days off work for personal reasons, so he was surprised to see you at a local pub. Even more so when he noticed the purple blemish on your cheek.

“What happened there?” He asked curiously – and a little concerned – gesturing to your cheek.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you suddenly felt uncomfortable. Anxious eyes searched for Ivar. Found him still at the bar, waiting for drinks. But under his baseball cap you could see his glaring orbs. There was only a meager hint of blue, such a hint of blue that you thought you might’ve been having déjà vu. Seeing those eyes peer under a brim or a hood, looking up at you from the dark…

“Stupid heels,” you laughed, averting your attention. It was time to end the discussion. “Had a little too much to drink and faceplanted. Totally embarrassing.”

Matthew cocked a brow. For a second, you worried that he didn’t believe you. So you added – “Too much partying when you’re out of work for too long, right?”

You sighed in relief when he chuckled, shaking his head. Relief only strengthening once Ivar finally returned with your drinks. He barely paid Matthew any mind, merely set down the glasses and kissed your cheek.

“I’ll see you at the office, okay, Matthew?” You said quickly, tangling your fingers through Ivar’s. “I’ve not had a night out with my boyfriend in a while.”

Ivar felt a swell of pride strong enough to keep him from scowling. Even when Matthew raised his brows at him.

“Wait, _the_ boyfriend?” Matthew gave Ivar a skeptical look – who could’ve broken the glass in his hand if he hadn’t been trying so hard to restrain himself. “Congrats! Finally made things work, eh?”

You prayed your laughter didn’t sound as nervous as it felt.

Ivar appeared as if a tight noose was strung around his neck. It was unnerving to Matthew. He let his gaze on Ivar linger for too long. Wary eyes darted back and forth between him and your bruise. Subtle to anyone else, perhaps, but Ivar noticed.

Matthew cleared his throat and rose his drink to you, using the bottle to point at your cheek. “Careful next time,” he said before wandering off.

“Did you order the food?” You asked Ivar as Matthew walked away. You wanted the interaction out of his mind as quickly as possible.

But Ivar’s attention was glued to Matthew. Ears deaf to your voice. Twice, he looked over his shoulder to look at the pair of you, and Ivar was certain he’d come to his conclusions. Either that, or he wanted to bed you just like the rest of the scum who dared to set eyes on you while you were apart. Either way, Ivar could not allow it. Couldn’t allow someone to doubt his love for you, or make assumptions based on one bruise – a mark nobody could possibly understand.

You had to nudge him twice to snap him out of it.

“Yes.” He said. Even gave you another kiss, and urged himself to match your grin. “Ten minutes.

 

 

Matthew was easily a better option than the men you poorly selected during your separation from Ivar. He was of decent build, hefty. Probably played a contact sport in his spare time. His brown hair was chin-length, and his choice in wardrobe was particularly tasteful. If you hadn’t been so dead-set on screwing _pigs_ , perhaps he would’ve been who you dated.

Ivar stopped short as he followed him home the next day. Fuck – he couldn’t think like this anymore. What was wrong with him? At home, you were asleep in his bed, exhausted from another good lay. You were _his_ – _no one_ else’s. It would be like this always. Just him and you. He didn’t have to think about another man getting their filth on you.

A smile spread on Ivar’s face as he continued on, sauntering from a decent distance behind Matthew. Shit, there was even a slight bounce to his step. How odd. What a strange difference from the fits of rage he’d fall into when stalking his prey before. You really were the best thing to ever happen to him.

The neighborhood was dark and quiet, filled with tall trees, and each residence was either bordered by gates or tall ferns. A perfect set for privacy.

Ivar only gained on him when he stopped in a cul-de-sac to light a cigarette. There would be no time better than now – Ivar abandoned the shadow and silently crossed the semicircle. Once he was close enough, he threw his forearm around Matthew’s neck and squeezed, pulling him back to his chest. Matthew immediately tried to shout – cigarette flung in the air – but had no room to breathe as Ivar squeezed.

He withdrew his knife with the other hand, but just as he aimed for his heart, Matthew drove an elbow into Ivar’s chest.

With Ivar’s cough, Matthew was released, whipped around with both fists up. He froze upon seeing who he faced.

“It’s – it’s _you_ ,” he said in disbelief.

Ivar growled, fixed his grip around the knife, and lunged again.

Matthew dodged once, twice – Ivar landed a fist to his jaw – Matthew recovered and tackled Ivar to the ground. A rugby player, no doubt.

But he was no brawler. Three punches successfully struck Ivar’s face, but not one made him remotely dazed. He guarded himself, grappling with his feet until he turned their bodies over with a shout.

As soon as he raised the blade, Matthew tried screaming – “HEL-” – a quick jab to the throat prevented that. His esophagus spasmed so violently that he choked incessantly, clutched his throat with both hands in a wide-eyed panic.

Ivar’s chest heaved, but enough adrenaline poured through his veins that there was no stopping now.

One strong tug had Matthew’s arm free, and he pinned it to the pavement below him. Matthew struggled and squirmed, tried fighting back through all his choking – fell slack with a punch between the eyes.

 _Where to cut?_ Ivar thought. He had to be clean about this now. He already fucked up tonight; taken hits that were bound to show on his face. It took about half a second for him to come up with an excuse, but still. He’d risked too much. There was no way he could go back home with a trace of someone else’s blood on him.

Matthew’s arm still lay flat out… Ivar’s eyes landed on the fleshy spot between his elbow and armpit. _There_. Without hesitation, Ivar drove his knife into the brachial artery, sliced lengthwise into it so there was not even the slightest chance he would survive.

A puddle of blood already pooled on the ground by the time Ivar was standing.

 

Ivar showered once he got home. Threw his clothes and shoes in the wash before that.

All was peaceful again once he slid into bed with you. His heart felt easy, swelling once you groaned in your sleep and turned over to snuggle him.

 

In the morning, your cellphone’s alarm went off; it was supposed to be your first day back to work. You groaned, still nestled in the warm, muscular arms. Wanted nothing more than to stay in that spot – _will_ the alarm to turn off by itself and never bother you again. But you still had responsibilities that needed tending to…

With much wiggling, you managed to spring free of Ivar and reach over to the nightstand to turn off the alarm. You stretched at length, yawning loudly, then clambered over Ivar to make way for the shower.

He was half asleep, murmuring – “ _Don’t go_ …”

You giggled, not turning back as you strode to the bathroom. “I have to. Just about fresh out of vacation days.”

The shower was quick, and by the time you were dried off and getting dressed again, the apartment smelled beautifully of fresh breakfast. You really were the luckiest girl in the world. With a perfect boyfriend, kind enough to cook for you before your first day back at work.

Then you screamed – Ivar pounced at you from behind, making you jump, only to growl playfully in your ear and smother your neck in kisses.

“Ivar!” You chastised, laughing all the same.

“Please don’t go?” He asked again. He was determined to make you stay. Even if it meant manipulating you with his body. “I feel like I just got you back… If you leave -”

“I’m coming back, Ivar,” you cooed, nuzzling his temple with the back of your head. “It’ll go by quick. Just eight hours.”

“It will feel like forever,” he insisted as you turned in his arms. He opened his mouth to say something more, but you interrupted – squealing loudly as you took in the sight of his face.

“Ivar!” You exclaimed again, though this time the fear was real. “What happened to you?!”

“It is nothing,” he replied, trying to pull from your grasp. “I’m embarrassed.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing…” Purple circles littered beneath one eye and over the length of his cheekbone. It looked like he narrowly missed having his nose broken. It was frightening – the rich color in contrast with his pale skin.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” he admitted, taking your hands in his. “I… I was _dreading_ today.” It was hard work resisting his triumphant grin when you pouted at him. “I thought – perhaps if I surprised you with breakfast in bed, I could – I don’t know what I was thinking…”

Your resolve was waning as your pout turned into a frown. “Ivar…”

“Anyway, I went to the corner market – you know, the one that’s opened twenty-four hours?” You nodded. “Some drunken asshole almost ran me off my bike trying to get more beer… Couldn’t believe it. I just… ate it.”

“He could’ve killed you!” You shouted suddenly, throwing your arms around him. You kissed his bruises as gently as you could, not wanting to cause him any more pain.

“I’m a little shaken up…” He admitted, smiling at his reflection over your shoulder. “I was just – I was just hoping -”

“Of course, I’ll stay home today. _Christ_ … I’ll text my boss right now. Let him know it’s an emergency.”

 

Ivar’s story worked for two more days. Frankly, he didn’t even anticipate the second. He thought perhaps he’d have to kidnap you by then, not knowing what else he should do to convince you to quit your job and stay home for him every day. But he was worrying about your return to work more and more with each passing minute, sinking into paranoia, thinking that while you were gone, someone would try to swoop you up. That he’d have to kill again to keep you to himself, or worse… You would try to leave him once more.

As much as he adored having you holed up in his apartment, while he came and went as he pleased, he knew this was borrowed time and struggled to find a solution.

 

He also hadn’t anticipated you finding out about Matthew in the news.

 

While he was at the gym, you used Ivar’s laptop to log on to your social media accounts, check up on the few people you hadn’t spoken to in a few days. You sat on Ivar’s bed, dressed in his clothes – a grey blouse and his basketball shorts – basking in his scent while you mindlessly perused the internet.

You almost threw up when you saw Matthew’s picture on headline news.

Just the other night – he had been walking home, was accosted – possibly a mugging gone wrong, but his fatal wound suggested otherwise… In a matter of seconds, you burst into tears in grief for your friend. Couldn’t even bring yourself to continue the article until you’d pulled yourself together well enough.

Turns out there was an unsolved string of crimes that police connected his death to – deaths in similar fashion. Arterial stabbings, wallets emptied but no later evidence that supported use of stolen credit cards. They had been _staged_ to look like muggings. Several clicks later had you reading up on how there were no suspects, no physical traces of whoever could’ve been committing the murders. Not a fingerprint or hair, not even a bootprint left behind.

That’s when you found the train of murder victims. Discovered that the last man you’d been dating, before coming back to Ivar – Derek, the one who looked so much like him – had been found dead just last week.

You felt sick at the coincidence. Because that’s what this was… Right? A coincidence?

But down the hole you went… Victim after victim, all men you dated. The police had found not a single iota of connection and yet there you were – the connection. Sitting in Ivar’s –

This time you did jump from the bed, ran for the toilet, emptied out the contents of your stomach. Your hands shook as you rinsed your mouth. You stared hopelessly at your reflection, eyeing the clothes on you, inhaling his scent with each breath.

After brushing your teeth, you returned to the laptop. Went through every article about Matthew’s death with a fine-toothed comb. Found the date and projected time of death…

Ivar’s alibi.

“ _No_!” You shrieked in the apartment, voice echoing among the walls. How, how, _how_? You were in love with this man, you would do anything for him and – and it appeared as if he would do anything for you… _Anything_.

You jumped when you heard keys jingling in the front door.

No. There had to be an explanation. Your boyfriend was not a serial killer. You knew Ivar. Ivar wasn’t capable of -

“Hey, baby,” he called, rushing into the apartment. There was a clatter as he tossed his keys on the dining room table, proceeded to kick his sneakers off. He was in the bedroom seconds later, and you still couldn’t find it in yourself to react. All you could do was look at your beautiful lover, pulling his soft hair from its bun, cheeks flushed from a good workout. He beamed as he smiled at you and tugged off his shirt.

“What is it, huh?” He asked, frowning at your frozen form on the bed. He crouched over and you nearly panicked, thinking he would grab the computer, but all he did was kiss your cheek. “No matter – I’m going to hop in the shower. We’ll get dinner after, okay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

The sound of the water running was deafening. But you welcomed it. Perhaps it was the only thing that kept you thinking straight. All instincts said to run – don’t even waist time collecting your things. Get out.

Even with the noise of the shower, you kept as quiet as possible. Slid the computer off your lap and climbed off the bed. The floor creaked as you came to a stand but there was no sign of alarm. Taking a deep breath, you tip-toed your way out of the bedroom, heart racing so fast that one wrongly inhaled gust of air might have caused you to faint.

You gathered your purse and fisted your hand around your keys so they wouldn’t jingle. Closer to the door you got – five feet to go – two feet – hand on the knob when –

“Where are you going?”

It took all you had to not sob in fear, but it seemed a fruitless effort. You were trembling as you turned around to find Ivar in the archway of the kitchen. He was naked save for a towel tied around his waist. He hadn’t even showered, was still completely dry except for the sweat that lingered on him from exercising.

“I was – I was going to get food,” you stuttered in a voice so unlike your own. “I wanted it to be ready when you finished.”

Ivar glared at you. He could _taste_ your lie. “You aren’t even dressed.”

A tear slid down your cheek. Would he kill you next? Is that what he was biding your time for? Would he use every inch of your body he could until he became tired and disposed of you? You gulped and without saying another word, turned for the door, fumbled with shaking fingers to unlock it and twist the knob.

The door had opened a few pathetic inches before Ivar was at your backside, reached over your shoulder to slam it shut.

“Please!” You screamed, instantly shriveling between him and the door. “Don’t hurt me!”

Ivar froze in shock and you took the opportunity to put space between you. Darted to the other side of the kitchen table, crouching in fear.

“I will _not_ hurt you,” he said slowly, raising his hands in defense. “What is – what is this about? You are acting -”

“Did you kill them, Ivar?!” You couldn’t keep it inside – you had to know. “Tell me!”

Ivar gave you a hopeless look, pleading with your name. “I don’t know what you are -”

“Don’t lie to me!” You shrieked. You clutched your keys to your chest as if they were the only thing defending you. Ivar inched toward you, trying to close the distance between you. “Please,” you begged. “Don’t come any closer.”

“This is _crazy_ -”

“It’s in the news!” You blurted. “Matthew… he’s in the news. You were just… out getting me _breakfast_ , huh?”

He released a sigh through his lips… The charade was up, Ivar realized. He thought the killing would be his secret. He didn’t want you to find out; he should’ve been better at getting rid of the bodies. And now look – he was watching you slip from his grasp. If you only realized why he had done it for you…

“He was going to tear us apart,” Ivar finally admitted.

You sobbed again, felt your back hitch as you restrained from gagging. The tears flowed freely from your eyes.

“He was going to tear us apart!” He bellowed this time. “I couldn’t – I couldn’t let that happen.” He was moving around the table now, it wouldn’t be much farther until he could reach out and touch you. “I barely _survived_ without you. I will not go through that again!”

“You’re a killer, Ivar!” You shouted.

“You _made_ me do it!” He shouted back. “If you had just stayed! I gave – I gave you _everything_. Can’t you see what I have done is for us?”

You shook your head in disbelief. “He didn’t deserve to die…” you cried. “Neither did the rest of them.”

Ivar stopped in his tracks, hunching over to bark out dry laughter. “Are you joking? You were so _stupid_ with all of them…” He set his fists on the table to peer at you with darkened eyes. “Did you know the first one tried to rape you? He would’ve, too, I am certain. Do you know why he didn’t?”

You were too shocked to respond.

“Because I killed him.” Ivar said, and proudly so. He would not be ashamed for killing men who meant you harm. “All of them were _pigs_ , all of them wanted to _degrade_ you, humiliate you somehow. _I_ prevented it all… Because I _love_ you.”

“Don’t say that,” you said, shaking your head back and forth. “That is _not_ how you show someone you love them!”

“Then where would you be without me, huh?!” He shouted. He stood straight and strode toward you, and you cowered in front of him, curling in on yourself to make you small enough that he might leave you be. “They wanted you to be some _whore_ – some stray for them to tame!”

“That’s not true!” You insisted. “What about Derek? He was nice!”

Ivar’s anger had not been so visible up until then. “You only wanted him because _you need me_!”

Before you could think twice, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face. You shook with terror right after, but even then, you reared back one more time and slapped him again.

His head stayed whipped to the side, long hair covering his face. But you could see the flush rise in his chest as it started to heave. With the distraction, you ran for the door again, shrieking when Ivar caught up to you. His hands grabbed you by the hips and he spun you around. Shoved you back into the kitchen table.

He was growling in your face – “You cannot leave me.”

“Ivar – please!” You flailed in his grasp, and he picked you up from the floor, slammed you onto the countertop. Your keys and purse clattered to the floor, all of its innards scattered across the tile. “No – don’t!”

“I won’t hurt you!” Ivar pressed. “I love you – I will do anything for you – why can’t you see that?” He held your face in his hands and kissed at your tears. “You love me, too.”

You dared yourself to look at him and you might as well have been doomed, then. To gaze into his blue eyes, bright as lightning. It was somehow calming, to look upon him. The cut of his jaw, the fullness of his lips and brows. Even now, it managed to bring you ease. You pet his face with your fingertips and Ivar closed his eyes as if in ecstasy.

“That was you in the alley that night… Wasn’t it?”

His eyes popped open, and though he didn’t say anything, you could see the answer in his eyes.

“I knew you would know,” he said, clutching you between his hands.

You sniffed unceremoniously, blinking more tears from your eyes. “I didn’t – I mean – I did, but I didn’t think you would…” You scoffed at yourself, feeling disgusted. “Ivar, this is _wrong_. You can’t just do this and expect me to -”

“Stay?” He asked, raising a brow. “Yes. I can.” He nodded vigorously, boring his eyes into yours. “You love me. You need me. You will want for nothing as long as you are with me.” Ivar kissed you as if sealing his vow. And the fact that you wanted to kiss him back only made you cry harder. You had to be about as bad as he, if this was something you overlooked. And yet… Without fail, Ivar was right.

You needed him like the air you breathed. You couldn’t picture life without him. If you had really wanted to run away, you would’ve before he’d even returned from the gym. But instead you gave him the chance to stop you. You _wanted_ him to stop you.

Ivar didn’t wait for you to respond. He tore your blouse right down the middle, wrapped his arms around your bare skin and pulled you into a bruising kiss. What was left of your tears dried up as his lips melded with yours. You growled in unison, fucking into each other’s mouths with your tongues until your eyes rolled back.

Too soon, he was pulling back. “I will take you away from here,” he promised, and you nodded with him. “I will take you far away -” he paused to smack his lips on yours. “- It will just be you and I.” You whimpered as he claimed your mouth again, but only for a second. He needed to hear you agree. “Yes? Just the two of us – forever.”

There was a dramatic moment of still as you stared at him, trying to decipher why you were no longer repulsed.

You were just as fucked as he was.

“Forever,” you agreed.

Ivar was moaning before he even made it to kiss you. You assisted his effort in taking off the rest of your shirt and he was tearing the shorts down your legs before the blouse even hit the floor.

“I love you,” he all but moaned, removing his towel. It joined the shorts on the floor and he wrapped your legs around his waist, drove into you with a quick snap of his hips. You cried out, the pressure so sudden you tipped back onto your elbows.

It did nothing to deter him. He bent over you, groped each part of you he could squeeze while his mouth suckled on your skin. “I love you,” he groaned again, slamming back inside you with enough force to shift the table across the floor. Soon enough the kitchen was filled with the sounds of skin slapping on skin; of you and Ivar shouting and groaning for each other.

“ _Ivar_ -” you moaned, desperately clutching him to you… And he held onto you just as tightly. Refused to let you go. He drove into your cunt as if it were the only thing holding him to this earth, even tried to avoid looking at you, at your body writhing for him and him alone – he wanted to take his time. Savor this moment for as long as possible.

How could you have ever thought about leaving him? Being without him for as long as you already had done? What the _fuck_ was wrong with you?


End file.
